


Wicked Game

by Tommykaine



Series: Portrait of a Serial Killer [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Challenge Response, Gen, Hypochondria, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, copying and reposting this work elsewhere without my permission is strictly forbidden!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommykaine/pseuds/Tommykaine
Summary: Three years after the capture of Gabriel Molyneux, a dangerous serial killer known as the Blood Painter, the dangerous man escapes and decides to get revenge on the detective who brought him to justice, forcing him to play by his rules.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Portrait of a Serial Killer [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697614
Kudos: 4





	1. Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> "Questa storia partecipa al contest “Be our Guest” indetto dal forum Piume d'Ottone" / This story was written in response to the "Be our Guest" contest for the forum "Piume d'Ottone".
> 
> The main connecting theme of this four-parts story is "Trauma", the recurring theme is "Five Senses" and the specific theme for this first part is "Dirty Hands".

His hands were dirty.

That was all that Adam could focus on as the stranger grasped on his bare ankle, his touch soiling him, a myriad of germs surely spreading from it, and he screamed, he struggled, he tried to get away from it but the stranger would not let go.

His hands were dirty and they were on him, oh God _they were on him_ , he was touching him and he was not letting him go.

"I'm sorry, I have to do this", the other man kept repeating, pulling him out from under the table and pinning him down with the weight of his whole body, holding him still against the floor - had he washed it before? Was it dirty again? He had washed it but he had walked on it so it was dirty again, it was dirty and covered in germs - and cuffing Adam's hands behind his back.

That cold metal, it hadn't been washed, had it? How many people had those handcuffs been used on before? The mere thought was far more unbearable than the cold bite of the metal around his wrists, so tight it might be cutting off his circulation.

"No, no, no, no LET GO! LET GO!", he screamed, thrashing around and trying to slip away from the stranger's grasp.

"I'm sorry", the unknown man kept on repeating, then Adam heard the sound of tape being pulled and he screamed again, an incoherent, almost inhuman keening sound, and he did not stop until the other man grasped on his hair to keep his head still and pressed the sticky tape onto his mouth, and Adam could _taste_ it, he could taste the glue and he was sure that it too was covered in germs and that made him scream even louder behind it, the sound now muffled and rendered even more incoherent.

Adam kept screaming until his throat was hoarse, his breath quickening and his eyes filling with tears, that unknown man was on him and Adam could smell tobacco and a faint hint of sweat coming from him, he tried to focus on the scent of detergent on the floor but he couldn't, he couldn't think of anything but the fact that he was being touched, he was getting dirty, he needed to wash himself quickly but he couldn't even move away from there and the thought was driving him mad.

Soon enough he was hyperventilating, his mouth and his nose feeling numb, his heart beating so fast it was almost painful, panic and dread filling his mind while the stranger said something to him but he couldn't understand, couldn't hear him over the deafening noise in his own head.

He tried to stay awake but he was breathing too fast, his fingers were tingling and he knew what was happening, he knew that his carbon dioxide was too low and his brain was not getting enough blood to stay conscious, and the thought only made his panic rise which made him breathe even faster.

_Stop, stop, please, please stop!_

The last thing he saw before his vision darkened was the leg of his table and the spot where it met with the floor and his last irrational thought was that there was probably an ungodly amount of filth and germs hiding in between them.

  
  


  
  


His hands were dirty.

That was all that Seth could think of as he carried the unconscious man to his car, all too aware of the fact that if anyone saw him he would be in deep trouble. Thankfully that area was almost deserted, if any of the few neighbors had noticed the screaming then they were either ignoring it or they had called the police and were waiting for them to deal with the potential threat.

The thought of his ex-colleagues possibly being on their way to that place made Seth's heart clench.

He couldn't believe what he was doing, it was as if it was a bad dream. It felt so unreal, and yet the weight of the man reminded him of the horrible reality. He had kidnapped a man, a most likely innocent man, all to follow the whims of a murderer in the faint hope that if he complied the villain would release his son, or rather in the hope that he could buy himself enough time to find some clues, any clues that could lead him to the bastard so that he could go and save his son from his clutches.

He didn't even want to imagine what sort of horrors his poor Angel was already being put through. The monster had promised he wouldn't touch him - _yet_ \- but could he really trust his word? He knew what he was capable of more than most people, he was the one who caught him last time after all, so if there was someone who could catch him again that was him.

At least, he had to hope that was true. He was all too aware of the fact that, during his brief imprisonment, Gabriel Molyneux had most surely thought of nothing but his revenge, the revenge he was now enacting on him. He had more than enough time to go over the events that lead to his own capture, which meant that he was going to be more cautious.

As he opened the trunk of his car and deposited the poor man in it, Seth tried not to think about _why_ he had been asked to kidnap him. He knew nothing of the man, and as far as he knew he had no connection to the killer. So why would Molyneux ask him to capture _him_?

Seth wished he had the time to investigate on that, if there was some connection between the two that could be the clue that would lead him straight to Molyneux, but he had to be quick. Had to contact the bastard to let him know he'd done his part. He took a picture of the man in his trunk and saved it, closing the door before walking up to the driver's side and entering his car, turning on the engine and listening to the loud roaring, it was the same sound that his conflicting mind was making in that moment. His conscience fighting with his need to save his son, his Angel, the only thing that was left of his family. Just when he thought he could start to salvage their relationship, that monster had to go and take him away from him.

In that moment, Seth wished he had just killed the man instead of arresting him, that he'd wiped that threat off the face of the earth so that he could never harm another human being again.

He still remembered that smirk, that self-complacent expression on Molyneux's face as he confessed to his crimes, speaking of them with no remorse but rather with pride, without shying away from any of the crudest details. He remembered the disgust he'd felt, the need to go back home and hold his son, thinking of how many poor men a few years older than Angel had met such an unfortunate destiny.

Now Angel was eighteen, just the right age to become Molyneux's target, and Seth couldn't help but wonder if he'd timed his escape on purpose to coincide with his own preferences. He must have, the bastard was fucking meticulous in his cruelty. Nothing was ever left to chance.

Shaking those thoughts off of his head, Seth wrote an e-mail to the address that Molyneux had left him, the same one from which he'd received that picture of his son, the look of absolute terror in his blue eyes forever burned in Seth's mind. He attached the photo of Adam and sent it, then he put his phone away and lit himself a cigarette, inhaling deeply and tasting its familiar calming flavor as he drove off before anyone from his department could show up and catch him in a very compromising position.

He had done it. He'd become the very thing he used to hunt down, and he was sure that was only the beginning. How dirty would his hands be, by the time he managed to hold his son into his arms again? Would they be too dirty for him to even face him without thinking of the horrible things he'd been forced to do?

He tried not to think of that.

He had to save his son. If the price for it was his dignity and his integrity, well, he would have to silence his conscience, because there was no one else who mattered to him more than his Angel.

Even if it meant getting his hands so dirty that they'd never, never be clean again.


	2. Something to lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main connecting theme of this four-parts story is "Trauma", the recurring theme is "Five Senses" and the specific theme for this second part is "È terrificante avere qualcosa da perdere"/"Having something to lose is terrifying".

Gabriel knew that Henderson had taken the bait as soon as he received the picture.

"Well done, detective. Looks like our little Angel won't be joining his mom in heaven today", he murmured, writing an e-mail to tell the man to keep the captive somewhere safe and wait the next day for further instructions.

He was incredibly gleeful, he couldn't stop smiling and it took all of his willpower not to go straight to the young man in the basement to gloat in his face. He wanted to take his time and savor the moment like a fine wine.

Speaking of wine, maybe there was some left in that house. That was just the occasion to open a nice champagne and celebrate his victory. Sure, he had yet to proceed with the rest of his plan, but things were starting on a high note and, this time, he would be more careful.

Henderson had caught him once but that was because he'd been cocky and underestimated him. He'd let the power get to his head, believing himself to be invincible, and it had costed him his freedom.

Three long years in a maximum security prison. Three years in that filthy shit-hole together with all sorts of lowlife, as if he'd really belong among those beasts. He was no common murderer or rapist, he was an artist! His knife was his paintbrush, his victims were his canvases and their pain and suffering was the richest of paints. Clearly he was too ahead of his time, too avant-garde for those plebs to understand the true extent of his greatness.

Well, thankfully some people _did_ see it. He had received plenty of fan mail, even some marriage proposals. It was all very flattering and it had made his imprisonment a little more bearable, but he didn't cope well with being locked up and unable to follow his inspiration. The few art supplies he'd been allowed to have after showing he could behave hadn't been enough to sate his need to create. He needed to be out there again. He needed to see the fresh blood and to hear the screams of agony and to feel the twisting of limbs, the warm flesh underneath his hands. He wanted to smell their fear, to see the terror in their eyes, to know that he would capture that moment and transform it into something beautiful.

It had been most fortunate that he was not the only one to have been screwed over by the detective and sent to that same prison. It gave him something in common to talk with some of the people there, even if he considered them below him. Still, it was useful to have allies in such a place and he'd always been good at being charismatic and fooling others.

It was there that he had learned about Henderson's son, the adorable and aptly named Angel. A little too young for his tastes, then, but in three years he would be just perfect. It was then that he'd started plotting his revenge.

He would take away the most precious thing from the man who had dared to challenge him, to hinder his creative process and to compare his actions to those of the beasts that killed without a higher aim, only to follow their most lurid desires.

Not that Gabriel had always been above that sort of thing. He had been like that at first, aimless and following nothing but his own lust and sadism, hurting others because he could and because he found it amusing, but most of all because he loved the rush of power that it gave him. It had taken him years to find his true calling, but now he was above such aimless killing and torture. His actions now had a specific purpose. One could even say he had received a higher calling. If there truly was a God then clearly that was the path that he had chosen for Gabriel.

Once Gabriel finally found and opened the bottle of champagne - a nice Dom Pérignon he'd stored there and took out from the basement so that it could be repurposed to safely keep his prey locked up - he unwrapped and uncorked it with a most satisfying _pop!_ , listening to the harmonious fizzing and indulging in his urge to smell it before he poured himself a glass. Ah, it was heavenly, such a rich bouquet! He'd really missed such luxuries. He was used to live a comfortable life, which was one other reason why his imprisonment had been such torture for him. His current arrangement wasn't ideal but, well, it was still a step up. It was only temporary anyway, he would only need to stick around until he was done with his revenge, then he would get out of there and bring his artistry somewhere else. Maybe he would go to Europe, where the masters themselves had been at work. He would have to lay low for a while, then he would make his comeback in full glory. He could even move from one place to the other, after all travelling through countries in Europe did not take that long.

One thing at a time, he told himself, lightly swishing the champagne around in his glass and carefully observing the pale yellow liquid before taking another deep inhale. God, it was almost orgasmic.

He sipped on that fine nectar, savoring every drop and feeling the taste explode in his mouth. That was how he should be enjoying his vengeance.

Oh, it was just perfect. Gabriel could hardly believe his luck. For Henderson to have something so precious that he could take away with ease, such a convenient way to make him pay for his cheekiness.

A common criminal would have killed the brat and sent his head to his father or something equally cruel and boring, but Gabriel was not that unimaginative nor that easily forgiving. It wasn't enough for Henderson to grieve his son, no, he truly wanted to make him suffer.

He would turn the now-ex detective into the thing he hated the most, a ruthless criminal, and he would show his cute little Angel all the cruelty that his father had always sheltered him from, all while the man would not be able to do anything but watch and beg for mercy.

And that was not all. He normally would dispose of his victims rather quickly but, since this was a long-term plan, he was wondering if there was any chance he could twist that boy's mind and manipulate him until he turned against his own father, until he no longer resembled the innocent little Angel he used to be. While if he couldn't, well, then he would traumatize him so badly that even if he were to survive and see his father again he would never truly be the same, he would be the shell of what he was before, terrified of every shadow and every little thing that reminded him of his time with Gabriel.

"It's terrifying to have something to lose, isn't it?", he murmured to himself as he finished his glass, grinning widely.

"Well, time to kiss the little Angel goodnight. I'm sure he's feeling lonely, down there..."

  
  



	3. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Questa storia partecipa al contest “Be our Guest” indetto dal forum Piume d'Ottone" / This story was written in response to the "Be our Guest" contest for the forum "Piume d'Ottone".
> 
> The main connecting theme of this four-parts story is "Trauma", the recurring theme is "Five Senses" and the specific theme for this third part is "Darkness".

Angel did not move for the whole night.

He was too terrified to try to escape, too scared to fall asleep even if he was exhausted.

The basement was shrouded in complete darkness. Angel had never been scared of the dark, but he had the horrible feeling that was going to change soon.

Being unable to see meant his other senses were heightened. The cold seemed even more biting, making him shiver as he sat there, huddled-up in a vain attempt to warm up. Every little noise startled him, from the sound of footsteps above when his kidnapper moved around to the creaks and rustling of what might have been rats scurrying in the darkness.

At some point during the night, that horrible man had walked up to the door and started rapping on it, before whistling to the tune of Hush Little Baby. Angel had covered his ears and curled up on himself, feeling like he was going to go insane. He was so scared he wasn't even aware of the fact that he'd lost control of his bladder until he felt the floor become wet underneath himself, which only added to his feeling of shame and powerlessness. He felt so small and weak, he was the son of a detective and yet he hadn't been able to fight against that criminal, not even to run away fast enough. His father would surely be ashamed of him, he'd taught him what to do in such a situation and yet he hadn't been able to avoid it.

The pungent smell of piss filled his nostrils, but Angel was too frightened to move. He couldn't believe it was really happening to him. It had to be a bad dream. Any moment from then he would wake up and find out it had all been a nightmare.

_Wake up, please, please wake up, wake up..._

The sound of footsteps grew closer again, the light suddenly piercing his eyes before the door creaked open. Angel let out a small yelp of both fear and discomfort, covering his eyes with his hands but slowly spreading his fingers once he heard his captor walk down the stairs, not wanting to lower his guard around him.

"Good morning Angel!". that horrible man spoke cheerfully, striding towards him with his long legs and putting on a frown once he spotted the stain on the floor. "Oh my, what happened here? Did you really piss on the floor like an animal?", he asked him, his tone much less friendly and full of disdain. "Disgusting... did your dad not teach you any manners?".

Angel whimpered and tried to beg for mercy, to apologize, but the villain showed him no mercy.

Angel cried out loud as his hair was grabbed and he was pushed face-down against his own piss, uselessly trying to slip away from the man's grasp. The acrid smell and the disgusting wet feeling against his cheek made his stomach roil as much as the humiliating words coming from his captor, who scolded him in the same tone one would use for an unruly pet.

"Bad boy!", he scolded him, giving his ass a loud smack while keeping his head in place. "If you're going to act like a puppy then I'm going to have to train you like one. And good little doggies don't piss inside their house".

Once Molyneux finally loosened his grasp, Angel scurried into the farthest corner in the room, much to the man's amusement.

Angel yelped in fear when something was thrown in his direction, the metal bucket clanging as it hit the wall and then rolled down on the floor next to him. The man then threw him a mop and a jug of water, then started barking orders.

"Clean it up, now!".

Angel had to force himself to move, his legs shaking so much he almost tripped down again, filling up the bucket with water from the heavy jug and then using the mop to try and clean up the mess he'd left.

"The next time you piss or shit on the floor you'll clean it up with your tongue", he was warned, and he had no doubt that the villain meant every word. His stomach squirmed again, he could already taste it in his mouth and it made him want to throw up, but no doubt that would earn him an even worse punishment so he forced himself to swallow back his bile, wiping his mouth clean and trying to clean up even faster, never daring to show his back to his captor.

Tears filled his eyes at the thought that he was trapped there at his mercy, unable to escape, until he decided he'd had enough of his game and killed him or until his father managed to catch that monster and saved him from him. But how long would that take? How long would he have to endure his torments, how traumatized would he be by the end of it? Angel knew he'd never again be able to sleep with his lights off, but that was just the beginning.

He did not even want to imagine the horrors that awaited him from then on.

  
  


  
  


Adam woke up in complete darkness, unable to move or to speak.

Instinctively he tried to scream, the sound muffled by the tape pressed on his mouth. He could taste the glue in his mouth as his drool had melted some of it and he realized he must have swallowed some in his sleep. The thought of how many germs might have been in it and were now inside of him only made him scream even louder, while he desperately squirmed around in a vain attempt to break free.

His hands were cuffed behind his back and his hands had gone numb, as well as part of his legs which were probably taped together.

Once he was too tired to struggle he panted through his nose, trying to breathe deeply to force himself to calm down. He wished he had his meds, but they were probably left in his home.

Where was he now? He could hear a rumbling sound, like an engine, and from the faint feeling of movement he realized he was probably inside the trunk of a car. He had been kidnapped. His panic rose again, his heart thumping loudly in his chest and he tried, he tried not to think-

_The darkness, the complete darkness around him, the sound of rain hitting metal, thick droplets seeping in and falling on his cheeks, and the smell, the horrible rancid smell of something rotting..._

Adam shook his head and whimpered, clenching his teeth and trying to ground himself in that moment but he could feel the smell invading his nostrils, could feel _something slither against him, the squeaking of mice and the sharp biting, until he struggled again and the movement scared them off. He was alone, all alone and trapped inside there, no one would ever find him and he would die like that._

_Please no, no, please not like this, he had thought, his bare feet hitting something soft which leaked some kind of viscid slime on them._

_The filth, he was surrounded by filth, it was all around him, it was seeping in him, seeping in him and he would never be able to wash off that smell, he would always be dirty, a disgusting dirty thing, oh that was his punishment from God, he knew of his sins, he knew of how filthy his body was, he knew all about it and that was why he'd let the Devil take him, now his body and his soul were corrupted and once he died he would go straight to hell, where he would see-_

The bright light forcefully pulled him back to his current reality. He looked up in fear, staring at the blurry figure in front of him. Even without his glasses he knew it was the same man who broke into his house, the stranger that had taken him. Just from realizing that, he was starting to hyperventilate, but the stranger harshly slapped him to make him stop.

"Please, calm down. I need you to get out. It could be on your own feet, if you promise to behave", the man said, taking out a knife.

That sight made Adam freeze up in terror, his legs warming up until he recognized the strong smell of ammonia, realizing he had pissed himself in fear and turning pale, terrified that would earn him some kind of horrible punishment.

The unknown man seemed to have noticed, his head turning to look in that direction, but he only sighed loudly.

"I'm sorry for this. If I had a choice-". He interrupted himself, moving in closer with the knife and once again Adam screamed, but instead of cutting his skin the man only cut off the tape that kept his legs tied up together.

"There. Once you can move your legs, I'll need you to get out of here and follow me", the man ordered him in a stern tone, putting away his knife but taking out his gun, showing it to Adam on purpose. "Don't try to run. I don't want to have to shoot you. Please don't make this harder for the both of us".

Adam nodded to show that he had understood. He wasn't going to run away. Not like he could go anywhere in those conditions. Even if the other man hadn't been armed he still would have been able to catch up with him pretty easily. He could only comply with him and pray God that he would be shown some mercy. He didn't want to die and he didn't understand what he had done to earn such a horrible fate, yet-

_You know what you've done._

-a part of him couldn't help but feel that, deep down, maybe he deserved it.


	4. Games and Riddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Questa storia partecipa al contest “Be our Guest” indetto dal forum Piume d'Ottone" / This story was written in response to the "Be our Guest" contest for the forum "Piume d'Ottone".
> 
> The main connecting theme of this four-parts story is "Trauma", the recurring theme is "Five Senses" and the specific theme for this last part is "Non hai bisogno che ti dica cosa fare"/"You don't need me to tell you what to do"

Seth looked at the contents of the last e-mail, his hands shaking.

Sitting down at the table, he took out a cigarette and lit it up, the flame flickering a few times before igniting the tip of the cancer stick. His wife used to say if one of the criminals he hunted down didn't kill him, then his bad habit would.

In that moment he couldn't care less. He needed something to destress, to ground him, and the familiar taste invading his mouth as he inhaled was reassuring.

He still had time. It was not too late. Angel was still alive and that was all that mattered. He had to get him away from that bastard and he was going to. He just needed to be smart about it.

It would have been easier if he had any idea of what Molyneux was planning, but of course he hid his intentions with tricks and riddles.

He looked at the e-mail again, trying to calm himself. There was an attachment in the e-mail, a picture of his Angel nude and terrified, crouching down in what looked like a field. A collar around his neck and a leash, like a dog. Just thinking about it made his stomach roil. He purposefully avoided opening it this time, focusing instead on the message.

It was a cryptic one, but after reasoning about it and recognizing parts of it he realized that the apparently nonsensical string of words were quotes. They came from Milton's Paradise Lost. It was not the first time Molyneaux took inspiration from it, so it wasn't a hard guess.

Seth wondered why he would choose such a simple riddle, maybe it was just a warm-up. Either way he didn't stop to question it for long and, once the cigarette was put out, he opened his laptop to look up the quotes online.

After noting down the lines, Seth realized that they were coordinates. Longitude and Latitude. He searched for it and found that they pointed to a place in the middle of nowhere. The photos from Google Maps showed a house. Was that where Angel had been taken? Was this going to be some sort of exchange? The man he kidnapped in exchange for his son?

He didn't know, but he didn't have time to question it. Every minute he wasted was a minute longer that Angel would be spending in the clutches of that monster. He had to hurry up and get there, but first he would need to secure his captive and probably gag him as well.

Seth frowned at the thought, the guilt gnawing at him. He remembered how terrified he'd looked, so scared that he'd pissed himself before he could get him out of the trunk of his car. He remembered his pathetic begging and how he repeated he was sorry. The pungent smell of ammonia that would no doubt stick to every fibre and soak through, he was sure he would never be able to wash it out of the vehicle.

As he walked up to the room, he could hear footsteps moving away from the door. No doubt Adam had heard him. He wondered if he had tried to escape, but he doubted it. The man had been rather cooperative, complying with his orders in fear of being restrained or even touched again.

Seth unlocked the door and opened it, looking at the frightful figure crouching down in the farthest corner of the room, his arms wrapped around his legs and his eyes open wide. He looked like a wild animal, like a hare or a fox caught in a trap and staring right at its captor, awaiting its fate with growing horror.

"Hey", Seth said, already cringing inside at the thought of what he had to do. "We're going to be leaving this place. I need to cuff you up again-"

"No!", Adam immediately quipped, shaking his head. Slowly he got up, shaking like a leaf, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender. Seth could see that they were covered in scars. Old-looking ones, deep cuts, probably self-inflicted. There was no doubt in his mind that the poor man was very mentally unstable and probably already traumatized enough as it was, but he couldn't afford to feel sorry for him. He couldn't hesitate if he wanted to save his son. It wasn't his fault if his hand was being forced by that monster. Even so, he couldn't help but feel immensely guilty as he took out his handcuffs and slowly walked towards the other man.

"No, no, please, _please_ I-I won't run, I'll come with you so please, PLEASE don't!", Adam begged, but it all fell on deaf ears. At the last moment he dashed, trying to make a run for it, but Seth easily tripped him and pushed him down like he'd done the last time, forcing him to stay in place with his own weight. He could feel him struggle underneath him, he wasn't strong but he was agile, it was like trying to grasp on an eel, but finally he managed to pin him in place and force his hands behind his back, cuffing them together.

"I'm sorry, I have to do this", he told him, even if he knew that the man couldn't understand that. He had had no time to explain and he wasn't sure if it would make any difference. Would it be of any consolation for Adam to know he had decided to sacrifice him to save his own son? Seth doubted it. For all he knew Adam was someone else's son and there would be someone out there suffering as much as he was, but he couldn't allow himself to think of that. He had to keep his emotions at bay.

Still, once he had cuffed him he still tried to talk to him, to justify himself.

"I wouldn't do this if I had any choice".

The other man kept on pleading and asking him to stop, to let him go, but Seth forced himself to ignore it. He secured his ankles next, then took out the roll of tape he'd used before.

At the sound of tape ripping, Adam turned to stare at him, his blue eyes wide in fear.

"Please, please don't- I'll be good, I'll be quiet, I promise, I prom-".

Seth cut him off before he could finish, slapping the piece of tape on his mouth. He didn't know if he was telling the truth or not but he couldn't risk it. He knew if it was him he would pretend to comply only to try to get away or call for help at the first occasion. Adam didn't seem like the gutsy type but you could never know. He could not afford to trust him. He had to be sure, and that was the only way to be.

  
  


A few hours later, Seth arrived at the designed place.

He went out to explore it first, leaving Adam in the trunk of his car. He took out his gun and armed it, ready to shoot if he even caught a glimpse of the bastard that had dared to put his hands on his son. He would make him regret even _looking_ at him in the wrong way.

However, there were no noises coming from inside the house and, once he tentatively stepped inside, he realized that it was long abandoned.

Seth felt his heart race. Had this been nothing but a cruel trick? Maybe Molyneux had used the time to run off somewhere else with Angel and was currently laughing at his foolishness. The ex-detective felt his blood boil.

And then, suddenly, his phone rang.

He immediately picked up. He knew who it was.

"Detective Henderson, I'm glad to see you're already there. I was worried you might not remember about my love for Milton's work. I kind of wanted to test your memory. It's good to see you still remember me well", the voice on the other end said. He would recognize that damn voice anywhere. He was sure it was going to haunt his nightmares from then on. It would take years for both him and Angel to recover from what they'd been put through, and that was just the beginning. Seth didn't dare to imagine what sort of trauma that experience would leave on his poor son by the time he found him - _if_ he found him, but he didn't allow himself to think like that. He had to believe he could find him. He had to believe he would outsmart the bastard again. He'd done it once before. He could do it again. He _had_ to do it.

"Where is he?", Seth asked, his voice trembling with anger. "Where is my son?".

"Now now, you don't expect things to be this easy, do you? The game has just begun".

_Bastard_ , Seth thought, holding back his tongue only because he feared Angel would pay for it.

"I don't see your new friend with you".

"He's in the car". Seth looked around. How did he know...?

"Look up, detective".

Seth raised his gaze and gasped. A camera. How could there be a still working camera in such a dilapidated place? It had to have been set up recently, but how could Molyneux have done it in such a short time?

_An accomplice._ Of course. He had someone working for him, but who? Someone from his prison, maybe a previous cellmate? Seth wished he had time to investigate but he knew that he first would have to follow along with Molyneux's depraved plans.

"There is a trapdoor to your right, underneath the cupboard. A secret entrance. You'll find everything you need in there".

"I want to talk to my son. I want to know he's alright", Seth told him, his free hand clenching into a fist.

"I'm afraid there won't be any talking once you get down there. No signal. But you'll find everything you need for us to communicate... if you know where to look". There was a low chuckle from the other end which made the hair on the back of Seth's neck stand up. "I trust I won't need to tell you what to do"

"Wait-", but before he could ask him anything more the call was abruptly interrupted.

Seth cursed out loud and had to hold back from throwing the phone across the room.

Once he had managed to calm down, he put his phone away and moved towards the cupboard, pushing the heavy furniture with some difficulty until the hatch was revealed. Pulling it open, he caught a strong whiff of stale air and grimaced. He saw a steep staircase leading downstairs. It would be impossible to carry Adam down there so he would have to force him to walk down there on his own.

He didn't know what sort of horrors would await them down there, but he had the awful feelings that, once they'd get out of there, neither of them would be able to live with the consequences.

  
  


It wasn't easy to convince Adam to get inside the building, let alone down those stairs.

Seth wouldn't have wanted to threaten him with his gun but he didn't have time to waste. He reminded himself that every minute spent trying to talk the man into it could cost dearly to his son.

And Adam didn't even know what was in the basement yet...

If he knew, Seth was sure he'd try to run away. That was why he had turned the lights off again before going back to fetch his captive.

The whole time, Adam kept whimpering and begging him, clearly terrified by the situation, but it wasn't just because he feared what would be done to him. The poor man kept muttering about germs and the filth, eyeing the moldy walls and the dusty floor with horror. It was clear that he had a compulsion of some sort, probably some form of OCD, which would make the experience all the more traumatizing for him.

Seth wondered if Molyneux knew of this. He had to know. Seth was sure that the bastard had meticulously planned every detail of his revenge, so if he'd picked Adam of all people there had to be a reason for it. Maybe it was precisely because of how much he would suffer by being forced to be confined into such a filthy environment.

“Hurry up”, he barked at him when he saw him stall as they reached the hatch, cringing internally as the man turned to him with a pleading look in his blue eyes.

“W-what's down there?”, the man asked in an anxious tone.

“You, with a bullet in your back if you don't hurry”, Seth threatened, hating himself for his words. It was horrible, but he had to stop thinking of Adam as an innocent victim. In fact, it would be easier if he didn't even consider him as human in the first place, but he didn't know if he was capable of that. If he had been, wouldn't he be the same as Molyneux?

Maybe that was exactly the goal of that damn psychopath.

“Careful, don't trip”, he warned the man, still keeping his gun pointed at him.

“I-I can't see...”

“You don't need to see. Just move”.

It took forever for the both of them to get down. Once they did, Seth grasped on Adam's arms and cuffed his wrists back together, his heart clenching as he heard him sobbing. He had to turn his heart to stone, to keep his emotions locked away. He knew he could do it. That was what he did whenever he followed a case, he tried to keep his emotions at bay and use his logical mind, freeing himself of any potential biases.

It was much harder when he knew that poor guy probably didn't deserve any of it.

_Probably_ was the key word. He didn't know for sure. Who knew, maybe he had some horrible secret no one knew of. Maybe he was a pedophile, or a nazi, or a rapist, or some other form of low-life. Maybe he didn't have to feel bad for what he was doing to him.

It felt like a weak excuse, but Seth grasped on it like a drowning man would grasp on a floating log. It would be easier if he could tell himself that really, maybe that poor bastard deserved everything that he was doing to him, and every torment he would be put through from then on.

“Close your eyes”, he ordered, taking off his glasses and putting them in his own pocket. Grasping on his arm, he pulled him closer to the light switch he had previously located, putting the gun back in its holster. “Don't open them, or it'll be the last thing you see before you die”.

Slamming his hand against the wall in an attempt to locate the switch, he finally hit it and the neon lights buzzed as they turned on, illuminating the whole room.

Seth didn't stop to look around, he had already scouted the area before. Instead, he pulled Adam towards the large cage located in the farthest corner of the room, opening the door with a creak before pushing him inside, taking the key out of his pocket to lock him in.

Adam opened his eyes at that point, probably out of reflex, and he immediately started screaming.

“What- where- NO! What is this- LET ME OUT!”

Seth moved back as the man slammed his body against the bars, uselessly trying to force the door open.

“Let me out, LET ME OUT, please, PLEASE! I-I don't know what you want but please, please-”.

“Shut up! I don't... I need you to shut up. I need to think. You won't be getting out of there any time soon so I'd stay put if I were you”.

“Please... this place, it's so filthy, I'll catch some disease! I'll die, I'll get sick and I'll die for sure if I stay here! It's filthy, filthy, _filthy_...”

Seth turned his back to him, ignoring his whimpering and his obsessive repeating of the same words, which thankfully grew quieter and quieter but only to turn into a soft sobbing.

With a loud, exasperated sigh, Seth moved to the centre of the room.

He had examined every corner, and what he had found had left him no doubt as to what was expected of him. The metallic cupboards placed against the wall were filled with objects that ranged from the sort of gear one would find in a sex shop to more sinister tools that looked like they belonged in a butchery or like they came straight out of the toolbox of a professional torturer.

There was a large locked box that he could not open, not even with the keys that Molyneux had left him. No doubt he would at some point be expected to find a way to unlock it. Seth tried not to think of what might be hiding in there, or what he would have to do with it. He couldn't help but think that it was just the right size to fit a body in it...

In the middle of the room was a table. On it was a letter with a message. This time it was typed with a typewriter rather than in Molyneux's flowery handwriting, unlike the very first letter he'd received when he learned his son had been kidnapped. Another riddle, another way for the bastard to torment him. He had said he wouldn't need to tell him what to do so the answer had to be in that riddle. The sooner he resolved it, the sooner he would know what to do and hopefully he would be a little closer to helping his son.

Even if that had to be at the expense of another's life.

  
  


  
  


Gabriel smirked as he watched the scene from his monitor, sipping on a glass of champagne.

He enjoyed the rich taste as much as the anguish he could see on the man's face. He knew that he was scared and angry, but he also knew that he would do what was expected of him. After all, he had to if he wanted to ever see his son again.

Not that Gabriel was too eager to give up on his new toy. He was sure he would have a lot of time to get to know the little Angel. All the time to make Seth regret their paths had ever crossed in the first place. All the time to break both of their spirits, to make sure that neither Angel nor Seth would ever forget his face. He wanted to haunt their nightmares forever. He wanted them to wake up screaming in terror as they called out his name.

His hand moved to ruffle the hair of the frightened boy who was sitting down next to him on the cold floor, his long fingers sliding through the silky smooth strands. He listened to his whimpers as if it was the most melodious symphony.

Such a beautiful, fragile little thing. He would enjoy breaking him as much as he'd enjoy breaking his father's resolve. It was only a matter of which one would crumble first.

The ex detective could not imagine what he was planning, which made it all the more exciting.

He wondered how much it would take for him to solve the puzzle and find the clue that would allow him to proceed.

Finally, it was time for the real game to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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